


Leviathan Dreams

by Ariss_Tenoh



Series: Leviathan Dreams [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” - HeraclitusCloud dreams of a better future, of long parted friends and lost love, of the end of it all. When Leviathan sends him back in time, he has to decide whether to act. Knowing every move he makes has a price and he may not be the one to pay it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: FF and its characters belong to Square-Enix. This is a work of fanfiction done out of love for the characters, no infringement on anyone's rights is intended nor any money is made.
> 
> Last week, I discovered Eir's Tomorrow by jukeboxhound. After finishing it, the muses decided they wanted to try their hand at a Time-Travel fic too. Because I clearly need more WIPs. *headdesk*

 

Part One: _Bloodshot_

She stood gazing at the seemingly endless blue of the skies and the bright glare of the sun reflected off the glass and steel of the building's interiors. Here on the seventieth floor of ShinRa's headquarters she felt like she was standing on the top of the world. It was an exhilarating feeling, absolute power and control and wealth. The sensation made up for the distaste of attending President ShinRa's _board meeting_.

 

The elevator at the far end of the floor dinged. She was irritated at having to wait to see him. Damn President ShinRa and his overblown sense of drama; the top foor was practically empty except for the meeting room on the other end.

 

He must have stepped out of the elevator, Scarlett thought. His mere presence affected all the troopers stationed at intervals on the floor, like a stone thrown on the surface of a still lake; it rippled outward as the slap of leather boots, clink of weapons and rifles, and murmured salutes of 'General' and 'General, sir' spread outward. His footsteps were unhurried, almost silent on the highly polished marble floor. Scarlett heard the receptionist at the counter sigh and she shot her a venomous look. The woman blanched and ducked her head instantly to stare at her monitor. Insignificant worms, she was surrounded by fools but at least this allowed her to shine in comparison.

 

"Scarlett," he greeted her.

 

"Strife," she replied, voice full of disdain even as she angled her body to best show the curves of her breasts and the slit of her red dress that showed the top of her thighs. He didn't look at her; he never did. Scarlett was angry; his behaviour made her loathe and desire him in equal measure.

 

"Um.. General? The President is waiting." His mousy assistant said from behind him, interrupting their staring contest.

 

He nodded at the girl and swept past Scarlett.

 

Scarlett glared at her. She would have suspected he liked his women young and timid but she knew for a fact the General didn't fuck his assistant. She gritted her teeth and stomped after him into the meeting room; the sound of her high heels hitting the floor like bullets against glass.

 

* * *

 

Miranda hated these meetings. She really did. Thank god the General didn't attend many of them. He never commented on them but she suspected he didn't like them either. And no wonder! The higher ups of ShinRa were sharks, more intent on tearing into each other than getting any work done.

 

After three years of being his personal assistant, she had this down pat. First, she walked to the head of the table to hand the folder to the President then worked her way clockwise around the table to each executive. It was nice to be relieved of the weight of all the folders and papers. The General had offered to help her carry them but she'd vehemently refused. The appearance would be unseemly and wouldn't reflect well on him; she had to watch out for him. The man might be a god on the battlefield but he was clueless when it came to company politics.

 

Everyone opened the folders and she debriefed them, observing their reactions. President ShinRa was clearly pleased. The remaining executives displayed a range of emotions on their faces from jealousy to anger to relief that the war was finally over. Miranda looked at her boss. The General answered the questions in his usual calm manner, even the provocative questions such as his reasons for sparing the lives of Wutai soldiers and humane treatment of prisoners. Times like these made her admire the ice which no doubt flowed in his veins or maybe it was a side effect of being a SOLDIER First Class, the very first. Miranda was suddenly glad she was only a lowly assistant.

 

The meeting finally concluded and the President left first as was his privilege. Heidegger and Scarlett traded insults and left soon after. Miranda breathed easier in her absence, that woman was a piece of work. Reeve Tuesti, Head of Urban Development, was standing with the General and speaking to him about plans for new barracks.

Miranda stood to the side, waiting for them to finish. Through the partially open doors, she glimpsed silver hair and black leather. She grinned; her day was about to get better, much better.

 

* * *

 

"Sephiroth," said that beloved voice. "You didn't have to wait for me."

 

Sephiroth couldn't stop himself from smiling, though he knew it was a weakness he was revealing to ShinRa's spies.

 

"I thought we'd share a meal together. You're always hungry after these meetings."

 

What Sephiroth really meant was that the older man was often in a bad mood after enduring these so-called meetings. Judging by the way his mentor raised his eyebrows, he knew the man caught his meaning. They walked side by side, ignoring the whispers and not so covert glances of the troopers and admin personnel on the floor.

 

Sephiroth knew Cloud hated the attention and praise heaped on him, believing no good could come from being under the spotlight of ShinRa's propaganda machine and he tried to shield Sephiroth from it too. Yet... yet, if it rendered them untouchable by their enemies and essential to the company's continued existence, Sephiroth would attend as many meetings and photo sessions as the PR Department deemed necessary. He won't allow them to be separated.

 

These past few months alone in Midgar, while Cloud fought in Wutai, were a stark reminder of his bleak years before the man entered his life.

 

_I never realised it. That sensation, it was loneliness. I thought it was normal to be alone. Now I know... I don't like it._

 

 

~ To Be Continued ~


	2. Chapter 2

 

Part Two: _Black Suits_

_"Miranda likes you."_

_"......"_

_"You should ask her out."_

_"She's a child."_

_"She's twenty."_

_"......"_

_A sigh. The sound of the elevator's bell and the opening and closing of the steel doors was heard._

 

The tape reached its end and clicked. Tseng laid his hand on the tape recorder and frowned, deep in thought.

 

Reno snickered and kept at it until his partner tried to forcibly shut him up.

 

"Is there something you'd like to say, Reno?"

 

"C'mon, you gotta admit it's funny. The General playing matchmaker for Sephiroth," Reno drawled, looking at his fellow Turks in the room, inviting them to share in the joke.

 

"I don't think Sephiroth is interested in anyone like that," Elena said from where she was sitting on the armchair opposite Reno and Rude. "The First Class SOLDIERS are all a little weird."

 

"You mean they think they're better than us," Reno interjected; he put his leg over the arm of the sofa he was sprawled on. "Besides, can you imagine having sex with one of them? They'd probably break you while fuck-"

 

"Enough," Tseng's voice cut through the room like a silent whip. He tolerated many things from his employees but vulgarity offended him on a personal level.

 

The only reason they were able to have this conversation was because they were in his office. It was perhaps the most secure room in the building barring the labs in the sub-levels. Tseng arranged his papers into the corresponding folders to buy some time and gather his thoughts. The fact was it was known the Turks acted as the President’s eyes and ears in the company, lesser known though was their duties also included surveillance of HVAs, High Value Assets, to ensure their loyalty and compliance with ShinRa's goals. In that respect, the General's assistant was a godsend.

 

The open secret among ShinRa's staff was that one couldn't find the General if he didn't want to be found, and waiting for him to write emails or sign reports was laughable at best. Having the petite woman to trail after him and force him to pay attention to more mundane things like paperwork and scheduled meetings was a blessing. Miranda Yan was also the best monitoring tool for Strife; Tseng thought she'd be very upset to know she was used as an unwitting spy against her boss. He did think it was odd the way she was chosen for the job. Apparently, the General saw her one day on the regular army's training grounds. She was losing to her fellow cadets in sword training and kept getting up every time they knocked her down. Eyewitnesses said the General plucked her then and there and commented that he liked her fighting spirit.

 

Tseng drummed his fingers on the desk, glancing at the folders containing written transcripts of their HVAs movements and conversations. There was a lot of mystery surrounding General Strife. Tseng's instincts told him the man could be extremely dangerous if he put his mind to it. You don't cage a tiger and think you've tamed it.

 

"Rude, what's your opinion on the subject?"

 

Rude started violently and hunched his shoulders as if he could appear smaller that way. He still wore his sunglasses, even indoors. Tseng believed the big man had a lot of potential as a Turk, although they had to work on his self-confidence and speech difficulties.

 

"Strife is a.. strange man. But he's fair and he tries to do right by everyone. His officers and troops love him because of it," Rude hesitated then added, "He's always paid more attention to Sephiroth though. I don't think this is a new development." He abruptly stopped talking like he ran out of words. Discomfort was writ large across his face and in his body language.

 

"Yeah? Why only Sephiroth? What about the other two freaks?" Reno asked in a snide tone.

 

Why indeed, Tseng wondered the very same thing.

 

Elena coughed a little before collecting herself and saying to Tseng, "Rude has a point. Strife cares about them all. By all accounts, he takes his responsibilities toward his subordinates very seriously but he treats Sephiroth differently."

 

"Elaborate, please."

 

"Well, maybe it's because he met Sephiroth when the latter was only a child? Or maybe he realised Sephiroth doesn't have any ties. Angeal and Genesis both have family, friends, and homes. Sephiroth has only ShinRa," she ended by looking at him for confirmation.

 

Tseng nodded. An astute summary. Sometimes the issue required stating the obvious to arrive at what was hidden. Elena was right but there were some things she didn't know. Such as Strife demanding access to Sephiroth as one of his terms of employment when he'd appeared at ShinRa Company. Tseng wondered how the man knew of the boy's existence; Project Jenova was highly classified and one of the company's most guarded secrets. At the time, Tseng's own boss hadn't known and he'd been a veteran of ShinRa's power struggles and clandestine affairs.

 

"Thank you, Elena." Tseng looked at his people and said, "You all have your assignments. Dismissed."

 

They left his office quickly, no doubt escaping his interrogation of them. Reno was intent on dragging the other two to a noodle shop in the slums that allegedly had the best noodles in Sector Seven.

 

Tseng locked his office's door. He walked to the safe hidden in the wall of what was supposed to be a side room with filing cabinets. He entered the codes and opened the safe, removing the file he wanted. The yellow file was dated to the year Strife appeared; Veld's elegant, cursive handwriting filled its pages containing proven facts and speculations on motives and events. Tseng wished his old friend hadn't retired early; he could use the man's advice at least. Many of the old agents left when Veld retired. Tseng felt the loss keenly; often he felt he was too inexperienced and slow to react to situations despite Veld's professed trust in his abilities.

 

He walked to the floor to ceiling windows behind his desk and gazed down at the city. No matter, he told himself. People revealed their true colours given sufficient time and motive. The mystery of Strife could wait.

 

Meanwhile, he needed to check on a certain girl tending to flowers in an abandoned church. She was another mystery he had to keep his eyes on.

 

~ To Be Continued ~


	3. Chapter 3

 

Part Three: _Blue Dragons_

The noon sun reigned high in the sky, beating down without mercy on the scarlet tiles of the Pagoda of the Five Gods. The many hands of the Da-Zhao Statue cast shadows on the tall pagoda, though those hands could not stop Wutai's fate on this day.

 

Inside the pagoda, in the central hall, plumes of incense rose into the air. Among the attendees, the mood was oppressive and laden with violence. The rich colours of gold, scarlet, and vermillion adorning the heavily embroidered robes of Lord Godo and his retinue seemed to weigh them down; their pride and long history a heavy chain around their necks when today was the day the Wutai Nation would sign a declaration of its ignominy.

 

Ancestors forgive him, Lord Godo thought. Rage, humiliation, and grief warred for supremacy in the confines of his breast. The only thing making it bearable, if one could call it that, was his adversary's calm demeanour. There was no haughtiness or contempt in those unnaturally bright eyes, only a hidden strength that had been unleashed on the battlefield to devastating consequences.

 

Lord Godo glared hard at him, wishing he could set the man on fire from the force of his anger and hatred. Of course, it had no effect. Like trying to outstare a cat, Strife would only react when he wished it.

 

Wutai and ShinRa's representatives were arguing the final details of the 'peace agreement'. A farce to satisfy appearances. Godo bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood; he remained silent allowing lesser men to squabble over petty things like reparations in coin and erecting the victor's flags and symbols.

 

For nearly three years, his people held the outsiders at bay. Minor battles and raids, villages changing hands so often its people ceased to hold any real fear. When ShinRa sent Genesis Rhapsodos, matters worsened before returning to a delicate equilibrium. Rhapsodos was a genius, skilled in materia and swordsmanship, displaying a wide range of tactics, and the audacity to attempt manoeuvres Godo had only read about in the scrolls of ancient philosophers. Young Wutai warriors admired ShinRa's warrior-poet and grudgingly praised him amongst themselves; Godo and his warlords knew better. Rhapsodos' weakness was his vanity, his hunger for glory, and utter disregard for the lives of his men and resources. The Lords of Midgar realised it too, albeit too late, and sent another of their manufactured aberrations to take command of the army. The new general chose to land directly on the cliffs of Northern Wutai, by airship! And descended with his men from the rocky mountains and its hidden crevasses to attack the Wutai garrison at Fort Tamblin. The end of that battle signalled the beginning of Wutai's defeat.

 

An ink brush was presented to him and Godo took it without removing his focus from Strife. He wrote his name in angry strokes on the delicate rice paper scroll. Opposite him, the General received another brush and signed his name beside that of a man representing ShinRa's lord.

 

Godo thought about Wutai's downfall, of Strife's fighting style and the way the man did not so much face his opponents as he _flowed_ through them, a force of nature daring any mortal to stand before it. Strife's commanders were cut from the same cloth: intelligent, capable, and devoted to achieving their lord's vision. With considerable bitterness, Godo admitted to himself that there was no shame in being defeated by a superior warrior.

 

_There is a question I must ask._

 

He waved his hand and his people left. Strife followed his example and nodded to his men, the men hesitated, which Godo approved of, and they left as well. Only Godo, Strife, and a third figure sitting in a corner of the hall remained.

 

"Why do you fight for ShinRa?"

 

Surprise flickered in Strife's eyes. Godo felt a burst of petty satisfaction for eliciting a response from the stoic man.

 

"Come now. A man such as yourself bending the knee to a greedy, scheming merchant? Your men follow _you_ , Lord Strife. Their lives are entrusted to you and I know you are not a man to squander such wealth. So I must ask. Why?"

 

A wry grin. "President ShinRa would consider your words a compliment."

 

"You jest even now!"

 

The man began to stand, his enormous sword in his left hand. Godo was chagrined to see him rise with no difficulty; few gaijin could handle sitting in the _Seiza_ position for hours.

 

"We all fight for something, Lord Godo." Strife stood before him, speaking in a mild tone and calm voice. "Or someone. Yuffie is only nine."

 

Godo flinched. How did the man know..

 

Strife walked to the shoji doors and stopped. He looked over his shoulder; the wolf earring in his ear caught the light.

 

"For a dream," he finally answered.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight nearly blinded him. Cloud winced and averted his eyes. He was glad it was finally over. They would station some men here until more permanent arrangements could be made but the main army was leaving in a fortnight. Genesis was going to be insufferable, probably sulking all the way to Midgar.

 

"Lord Strife!"

 

Cloud turned toward the voice. It was the person who'd remained silent and hooded during the entire meeting, and Godo didn't ask this person to leave for his private conversation with Cloud. Cloud was a bit curious. He could see his men tense at the approaching figure. He raised a hand to keep them away. He had a feeling this was going to be another private conversation.

 

The person came to stand in front of him. When she raised her hands to push back her hood, it was a woman's slender physique beneath the heavy robes, the ornate sleeves of the kimono fell away from her arms revealing small blue scales tattooed from her fingertips and growing larger in size and diameter till it reached her elbows. When she raised her face, Cloud saw the same blue tattoos around her eyes and across her cheeks. The skin was still puffy and red. A recent transformation then.

 

"You know who I am," her voice was high, breaking before her sentence was complete.

 

Yes, he did. The High Priestess of Wutai, the Shaman of the Gods. She was so young, Cloud thought. He remembered a report stating Genesis killed the former shaman for daring to use materia against him during a battle in Wutai Village. This must be her most promising apprentice, newly titled.

 

"You said you fight for a dream," She gathered her courage and met his eyes. "I've seen you in Leviathan's Dreams. You and your reflection. Two men, two different futures."

 

His body tensed in a fight or flight response. He reminded himself she was a girl, barely into adulthood; she was no threat to him.

 

"Tell me, which is your desire? Which is your path?"

 

Cloud felt a chill spreading through his body, though he was standing under the heat of the afternoon sun. Once upon a time, they were talking about gods and religions. Yuffie mentioned something about the priests in Wutai, their methods of interpreting omens through dreams. She made fun of them, saying they drank too much sake and inhaled too much incense that it addled their brains.

 

"Do you intend to mock me with your silence?"

 

He wondered if all Wutai girls were feisty and bull-headed like Yuffie.

 

"I don't think your god cares about me," he settled on the most neutral answer he could give.

 

"Do not speak of Leviathan as if you know his will!"

 

"She," Cloud said softly.

 

Shock painted the shaman's face white with its pale colour.

 

Cloud stepped closer, amused to find they were almost the same height. She was tall for a Wutai woman. He leaned to whisper in her ear, confident she wouldn't want anyone to hear the next words.

 

"Leviathan. The Hydraean. Goddess of the Seas. You keep it a secret because you know Easterners would respect you less if they knew you worshipped a goddess."

 

This close Cloud could see her trembling but she didn't back down. Her posture was straight and she looked at him directly.

 

"If you know of the Tidemother, how can you make light of my words? Destiny is-"

 

"My dreams are my own. They don't have anything to do with you or your gods."

 

Cloud turned and walked away. He left her standing there, likely angry and confused. There was no room in his heart for sympathy; there were people he needed to protect.

 

"General, are you all right?" Alan saluted him. The lieutenant accompanied him back to their camp, one step behind him and to his left. "Godo and his men were staring at you during the meeting. I was afraid they'd try something." He sounded genuinely worried.

 

"Lord Godo is proud but he's not stupid." Cloud looked at the young man and felt a pang of regret. Many had died in this war, at least it was over now. "Let's go home."

 

"Of course, sir. It'll be good to be back in Midgar. The good ol' smog, over processed food, and no sunlight to burn our delicate skin," Alan gave him an impish smile, the scar across his right cheek pulled his mouth, making it wider than a normal smile.

 

Cloud shook his head, a rueful look on his face. Despite the high death toll, the mood among the soldiers was all jubilation and nervous excitement. Tomorrow they'd begin the long march to the southern tip of the continent where the ships waited to transport them back to Midgar. The seas were calm at least this time of year so they should make good time.

 

In the distance, Cloud easily spotted Genesis standing and giving orders to the staff to pack his things. Genesis cut a handsome figure in his long red coat; his height and arrogant bearing drew eyes to him and attracted admiration and envy alike. People gravitated to him like moths to a burning flame.

 

_So different from Sephiroth_

 

Miranda stood at the flap of his tent, dressed in mismatched fatigues and combat boots. Her face streaked with the red dirt of Wutai.

 

"Sir, I've left the status reports on the table for you to read. There are some MIA soldiers but their captain says they're probably passed out somewhere from drinking too hard last night. He's asking for time to round them up."

 

She followed him into the tent, practically pushing Cloud inside.

 

"There's food on that side table so please eat something before it all goes cold-"

 

"Miranda," Cloud tried to get a word in. She must have drunk the entire coffee pot again from the manic way she was talking.

 

"I've ordered them to haul some water for you so you can take a quick bath. Is it here yet? Oh yes. There it is."

 

He removed his gloves and placed his sword against the lone chair in the tent. "Miranda," Cloud tried again.

 

She bounced around the tent, lighting oil lamps, dragging the table to one side.

 

"Please remember to wear your new set of clothes. ShinRa does allow First Class SOLDIERs to modify their uniforms but wearing faded clothes is bad for the company's image and troop morale. Director Lazard already sent a memo about this before we left."

 

"Miranda, breathe," Cloud gave up. She didn't seem to hear him at all when she got like this. He unbuckled his shoulder guard and belt.

 

A burst of deep-throated laughter intruded on them.

 

"Damn! Do you realise this is why people call you the _General's little wife_ behind your back?"

 

Cloud repressed a sigh. His second-in-command was a blunt, no-nonsense woman with a deep smoky voice that was at complete odds with her angelic face.

 

"Yes, Alex?"

 

"We found the stragglers, sir. Got the Chocobo lancers sorted out, and the infantry's cannons are all squared away," Alex said from where she poked her head into the tent. Used to her boss' taciturn manner, she didn't wait for a reply and turned to Miranda, "Let the General rest. How's he supposed to clean up with you standing there like a dazed carbuncle?"

 

Miranda looked at Cloud, finally noticing his state of undress and turned a shade of red that resembled del Sol tomatoes. She blurted out, "I'llseeyouatdeparturetimesir" and ran out of the tent.

 

Alex smirked. "Your welcome, sir," And withdrew from the tent.

 

* * *

 

The tent's flap settled into its place. For several minutes silence slowly permeated the tent. Cloud closed his eyes and savoured the comfort of this rare moment of solitude. The darkness of the tent soothed something in him. He didn't have to be the General in this small, dark space. He was just Cloud Strife, a man trying to atone for his failings.

 

He took off his shirt. A muscle in his back pulled sharply when he raised his arm, he winced. The Mako would take care of his injuries, with some food and rest his body would be fine in a few days. Cloud reached for the small washcloth Miranda no doubt placed on the table. The water container was a crude construct of metal sheets hammered and nailed together but it saved him from the eyes of other people. Miranda knew how much he valued his privacy. He really didn't deserve her.

 

With the lid removed and placed on the ground, Cloud gazed at his reflection on the water's surface. The oil lamp hanging behind him provided little illumination. His face bore no signs of ageing, despite the years he'd spent in this world. Was it a side effect of Hojo's experiments with Mako? Or because the man tried to make him into a Sephiroth clone? Remembering the time he and Zack spent as Hojo's test subjects always filled him with pain and shame; he couldn't help himself or Zack, and his friend ended up paying the price for it.

 

Cloud plunged his hand into the water and started to scrub his face and arms with the washcloth; his movements tense and too rough on his skin.

 

_Zack. Aerith. Sephiroth.. This time.. this time I'm going to save you. I promise._

 

~ To Be Continued ~


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four: _The Red Mage_

A newly born crescent moon graced the night sky. The large window showed the empty expanse of the desert that the people called _The Wastelands_. He'd chosen his rooms to face this view, an unpopular choice but it meant he had almost an entire floor to himself in ShinRa's headquarters.

 

His robe slid off one shoulder; he ignored it. Gazing at the dark sands gave him a peaceful feeling. Odd, he thought.

 

A drop of water slid from the tips of his hair down the bare skin of his neck. Much as he enjoyed sex, he couldn't wait to take a shower after it was done. Copulation was a.. messy affair. He wrinkled his nose.

 

A light flickered on. 

 

He turned to see Angeal, dressed only in a pair of loose, black sleep pants and clearly just out of the shower too. Angeal's hair was damp and soft, falling around his face, a towel lay on his shoulders, and the effect was a lessening of his usual severe look.

 

Angeal would never be called beautiful or conventionally handsome, Genesis mused. There was something comforting about him though, something intangible that Genesis couldn't quite define. It drew him back to his childhood friend time and again. 

 

While Genesis was lost in his thoughts, Angeal had moved to the small alcove where the tea set was placed. He boiled water in the gold kettle and fixed himself a cup of tea.

 

Genesis watched him, not willing to break the comfortable silence yet. 

 

Angeal seated himself on the sofa, taking a long sip of tea from the mug in his hand. He grinned and said, "You might as well ask. I can see it on your face."

 

Genesis huffed.

 

"What was Sephiroth like in our absence?"

 

Angeal burst into laughter.

 

"That's what you wanted to know? What he was like when you and Strife weren't here?"

 

"Well, my imagination is hardly lacking but you've always accused me of indulging in extreme fancy."

 

Angeal leaned back and placed the mug on the floor; the sofa creaked under his weight.

 

"He was restless and trying to hide it. Worried about Strife, I guess."

 

"Worried? Sephiroth?" Derision dripped from Genesis' tone. He felt angry at his reaction to his rival; he couldn't control it. 

 

There were no illusions in his mind regarding Sephiroth. The friendship between him, Angeal, and Sephiroth sprung from special circumstances, convenience, and the isolation of being the only First Class SOLDIERs apart from Cloud Strife. Strife was set apart from them by his age and aloof character. All this made them bond together, a tenuous bond though. 

 

"Strife is important to Sephiroth. You know that."

 

Genesis heard the frown in Angeal's words without turning to look at him. He was going to join Angeal on the sofa but now felt it was better to stand by the window. 

 

A tense silence prevailed, and then Angeal asked in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Did he really land on the cliffs?"

 

"Yes. It was a brilliant if reckless move. The Wutai Army didn't expect it. It was a rout." He smiled and added, "His men were professionals. I could hardly believe they were part of ShinRa when I witnessed their skill and efficiency."

 

"Mmm.. he often picks and trains them himself."

 

There was a peculiar expression on Angeal's face; he was leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, not looking at Genesis and apparently lost in thought. 

 

Genesis walked over and stood before his friend. "What is it?" he asked.

 

Angeal raised his eyes from the carpeted floor. 

 

"Hmm? It's nothing."

 

"Do not even attempt to lie. You are abysmal at it."

 

He hesitated and confessed, "There was a rumour that the President wanted to send Sephiroth to take command of the army."

 

Genesis felt like he was doused in ice water.

 

"Strife argued against it. Said Sephiroth was young and inexperienced. He promised the President he'd end the war before the Winter Ball."

 

And he did. With a month to spare even, Genesis thought dazedly, this explained the blond man's ferocity, the way he spared no time for dalliances or mercy to his enemies. Genesis crossed the room to stand before the window again; the dark sands below soothed his chaotic emotions.

 

"I would not have believed it of Strife. He professes to care about his protégé, yet robs him of the glory and distinction that would be rightfully his. Why, to think-"

 

" ** _Genesis_** "

 

He turned abruptly at Angeal's sharp tone. Oh, the man was angry, his bare chest heaving with restrained emotions.

 

"What happens in war, Genesis?" Angeal tried to sound calm and reasonable. 

 

A look of utter incredulity appeared on Genesis' face and he let the man see it. 

 

"Humour me." Angeal gave him a grim smile. 

 

"War is a contest of wills and force. Two opposite sides facing each other to determine who shall the laurels of-"

 

"People _die_ in a war. Children become orphans, women become widows, and elderly parents watch their sons die before their time. And it takes generations to recover from death and destruction on that scale."

 

Heavy breathing dominated the room.

 

Of course, it would. The Wutai people believed in death before dishonour. Genesis remained silent and didn't voice any of his remarks. 

 

Angeal's head hung low. He spoke almost in a whisper, "Strife understands that. He didn't want all that blood to be on Sephiroth's hands. You only see praise and glory but he also took upon himself an entire nation's hatred and anger... I don't envy him that." He ended his tirade with those words and strode into the bedroom.

 

There were times Genesis felt he didn't understand Angeal at all, or Strife. He realised now he had underestimated the taciturn General, mistaking reticence for a slow wit and lack of impetus. 

 

Angeal appeared moment later, dressed in his SOLDIER uniform and pushing his big feet into unlaced boots.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"To bed. Which is what you should be doing. Standing in front of a dark window wearing a satin robe is melodramatic even for you." 

 

With that parting shot, Angeal left. The door closed behind him with a resolute bang.

 

Angeal would usually stay the night unless there was a mission in the early morning. He's angry, Genesis thought. The reason eluded him; it disturbed Genesis that he didn't have insight into Angeal's thoughts. Had they grown so far apart that he couldn't predict Angeal's reactions anymore? Impossible... 

 

 

~ To Be Continued ~


End file.
